


ten things, one thing

by PaintedVanilla



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Blood and Injury, Child Abuse, Crying, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 03:49:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15186122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaintedVanilla/pseuds/PaintedVanilla
Summary: Ten things happened between Alexander and his father the year that he left. One of them mattered.





	ten things, one thing

**Author's Note:**

> this is purely self indulgent mostly coping stuff and a vague explanation as to where a lot of Alex's issues come from in my au

**1.)**

Alex feels like he’s never been in so much pain in his life. 

When he looks down, his vision is blurry through his tears, but he can see the copious amount of blood running down his arms and legs and dripping all over his shoes. He’s shaking, trembling and crying in the middle of the street. He squeezes his eyes shut, and tears rush down his cheeks hot and wet, and he clenches his fist in a desperate attempt to keep himself calm. He’s making loud, wailing noises as he sobs, but he can’t stop; no one is paying attention to him anyways. 

When his father comes around the corner, he is strolling at a leisurely pace. When Alex sees him, his heart fills with hope. When his father comes to him he will make the pain disappear. Watching him make his way to him is difficult through his tears, but finally his father is standing over him. There’s a toothpick in his mouth; he rolls it between his lips as Alex stares up at him, eagerly awaiting to be told it’s okay.

James Hamilton glances between Alex, and his bike, which Alex has clearly fallen off of, resulting in the bloody mess standing in front of him. He heaves a deep sigh, and then says, “You can ride home.”

For a moment, Alex isn’t sure what to say. He stares up at his father, then whispers, “What?”

James reaches over and picks the bike up, holding it upright, “You can ride home.” He repeats. 

Alex tries to protest, because tears are still spilling down his face and blood is still spilling down his arms and legs, but his father silences him with a look and an irritated noise.

Walking makes Alex whimper; bending his knees and his elbows is perhaps the worst pain he’s ever felt in his life. He can’t stop himself from crying, which prompts another irritated noise from his father. Alex mounts the bike and whines loudly while doing so, which earns him a push on the back. 

“Don’t be a pussy.” His father says, and Alex rubs the tears out of his face and bikes back to the apartment, his father trailing behind him.

**2.)**

“Dad?” Alex asks, his voice nervous.

His father turns to look at him from where he’s sitting on the couch; he doesn’t answer Alex, but the amused look on his face is asking what he wants. Alex hovers near the wall of the kitchen, “Um, there’s ants.”

His father is quiet for a moment, “Ants?”

“On the counter.” Alex elaborates. 

“Ants on the counter.” His father muses.

“Can you come kill them?” Alex asks.

James looks a mix between irritated and amused, so Alex isn’t sure what to do. Finally, he stands from the couch, and as he walks into the kitchen, he grabs Alex by his shoulder. It’s not harsh, so Alex follows him into the kitchen. “Where are the ants?” James asks, and Alex points to a specific area of the counter.

“Watch this.” James says; on the counter there is a small line of sugar ants, and James reaches down and crushes one of them with his thumb.

“Stop!” Alex yells loudly, “It’s gonna bite you!”

“Nah.” James says, lifting his thumb up and showing Alex the squishes ant stuck to it, “He’s already dead.”

Alex stares at it for a moment, and then he grins. James wipes his finger on his jeans, “You try.”

The smile drops off Alex’s face, “What if it bites me?”

“It won’t bite you.” James says.

He takes Alex’s hand and lifts it up, so that his pointer finger extends out, and then he lowers it onto a sugar ant; Alex squeals. James let’s go of his hand and Alex lifts it up quickly, peering at the crushed ant there. He’s quiet for a moment, and then he grins up at his dad.

James smiles back at him, “Do another.”

Alex eagerly reaches up onto the counter and crushes another ant, giggling. 

**3.)**

Alex wakes early in the morning when it’s still dark out needing to pee. When he wanders to the bathroom, the light in the living room is still on; there’s a faint murmuring drifting out of the room, but Alex isn’t interested enough to listen to it. He closes the bathroom door and locks it, and when he lifts the lid on the toilet, there’s semen in the water.

Alex tries not to think about that as he does his business, flushes the toilet and goes back to bed.

**4.)**

“Alexander.”

Alex wants to run to his room, was running to his room, when his father barks his name coldly. He turns to face him, nearly in tears; he’s still standing by the front door. His mother is standing halfway between them, a tight look on her face. 

Alex locks eyes with his father, who seems to take that as a signal to continue his assault, “Do you not appreciate what I do for you?”

“James.” His mother says, but he ignores her.

“Do you not appreciate,” James continues, his voice louder, “what I do for you and your mother?”

Alex shakes his head softly; he means to say that he does, that his father is wrong, but James’ face tightens and he immediately knows he’s made a mistake.

“You don’t?” James asks loudly, letting go of the doorknob and marching towards Alex.

“James!” His mother exclaims, and she means to stand in between the two to block his path, but he grabs her by the collar of her shirt and shoves her to the side.

Alex backs up against the kitchen counter, shaking; there’s a lump in his throat, and Alex is sobbing, but there are no tears coming out and it burns his entire face. His father marches up to him angrily, “You don’t appreciate me.” he says, “You don’t appreciate everything I do for you.”

“I do.” Alex croaks out.

“You don’t.” James says,  _ “You’re lying!”  _ he shouts, and Alex flinches as he reaches over and knocks the closest thing off the counter; it lands on the floor and shatters. “I ought to go and kill myself.”

“No!” Alex screams, his voice hoarse, and suddenly his mother is grabbing him by he shoulders and pulling him harshly into her grasp; she covers his ears like that will do anything to help the situation. 

“Don’t speak to him like that!” She says, as loudly as she can make herself.

“Neither of you,” his father says, “You don’t fucking care about me.”

The thought occurs to Alex to shout out ‘swear jar’ but he decides the only thing it will get him at this point is a slap across the face. 

“I should just go,” James says, “I should just go and  _ kill myself!”  _ he screams.

His voice is so loud, Alex twists in his mother’s arms and screams, “No!” as loudly as he can, drawing the word out and still sobbing.

“Is that what you want?!” James asks, and his voice is loud like thunder and Alex is trembling, “Is that what you want me to do?!”

_ “No!”  _ Alex yells, and he’s never said anything louder in his life; the volume of his voice hurts his throat, and he leans into his mother and sobs.

**5.)**

“Can I go down and look at the dogs?” Alex asks, peering out of the enormous windows down at the track.

His dad pulls him back, “You’re not allowed on the track, bud.”

There’s so many people walking around; Alex thinks maybe he’s never seen so many people in one place in his life. He’s afraid to stop holding his dad’s hand lest he get lost in the hoards of people. Everyone is walking somewhere, and everyone looks so busy and everyone looks so engrossed in what they’re doing. Alex is the shortest person there.

He looks back out the window, “What kind of dogs are they?”

“Greyhounds.” James says, without looking at him, “See the one in slot six?”

Alex has to search for it, but when he finds it he nods. James chews on the toothpick in his mouth and says, “That one’s ours.”

Alex looks up at his father with bright eyes, “We bought a dog?!”

James looks down at Alex, amused, “No.” he says, “We’re betting on that one.”

“Oh.” Alex says, deflating a little bit.

“But, if number six wins,” James says, “ _ We  _ will win some cash.”

Alex looks back up at his father, “And we’ll buy a dog?”

James chews on his toothpick, “Maybe.” He says, with no intention of doing so.

**6.)**

Alex’s father picks him up from school and takes him to a bar.

“What are we doing?” Alex asks.

“Just grabbing something.” James says in a relaxed tone; a woman with blond hair and dull eyes is standing behind the bar. She greets James by name; half of her face is droopy and Alex stares at her.

“What do you want, hon?” The lady asks, and she reaches across the bar and rests a hand on Alex’s. He blushes and pulls his hand away and looks up at his dad questioningly.

“Tell her what you want, son.” James says, but when Alex keeps staring at him he sighs and says, “To drink, Alexander.”

“Oh.” Alex says, blushing even harder, “Um, can I please have a shirley temple?”

James makes a face, but doesn’t object. The blonde lady hums and leaves the two of them alone; she returns with a shirley temple and a margarita. Alex takes a sip of his drink, then looks up at his dad, “We should get something for mom.”

James hesitates, “How’s about we, uh,” he glances down at Alex, “keep this between you and me?”

He winks at Alex, who wilts a little bit in the stool, and suddenly feels very sick.

**7.)**

“What were you doing?”

Alex starts, looking up; his father is sitting on the fire escape looking down at him. He’s smoking a cigarette. Alex swallows, thinking about the boy down the street who he sat with today during recess who gave him a kiss on the cheek, and how they held hands on the bus ride home. Something in the pit of his stomach tells him such a thing wouldn’t make his father very happy.

“Nothing.” Alex says, his voice hoarse.

James sniffs, watching him skeptically, and then he takes a drag of his cigarette and taps it on the rail and Alex watches the ashes fall down like grey snow. His father watches him all the way inside.

**8.)**

The first thing Alex does when he gets off the bus is slip and fall into an enormous mud puddle. 

The kids sitting on the right side of the bus who see this happen giggle a little bit. Alex is too focused on trying to pick himself back up to notice his father’s nostrils flaring. As soon as the bus is out of sight, James grabs Alex roughly by his arm and yanks him up; Alex yelps, startled as he lands on his feet.

“You like making my life hard?” James asks, shoving Alex forward towards their apartment, but Alex is still standing in the mud so he trips and lands in it again. This time he gets yanked up by his backpack and lifted over the mud, before being dropped harshly on his feet. Alex cowers a little bit, looking back up at his father so he’ll tell him what to do.

“Walk!” James exclaims, so Alex starts off on a brisk pace towards the apartment. 

“Don’t track fucking mud in the house.” James snaps as he’s unlocking the door.

“Swear jar.” Alex whispers, which earns him a nice, hard hit on the head. When he doesn’t take his shoes off fast enough for his father’s liking, he gets shouted at again. 

Once inside, his father is seething, and he calls Alex’s mother on the phone in the kitchen while Alex hovers in the doorway, still waiting to be told what to do. 

**9.)**

Alex is sitting on top of one of the washing machines at the laundromat; he hasn’t said anything since his mother woke him up and asked him to come with her. He kicks his legs back and forth, careful not to let his heels hit the washing machine. His mother watches him quietly.

“You’re quiet this morning.” She comments, “Usually you’re so talkative.”

Alex looks up at her, and then looks away. She frowns, “Alexander, are you alright?”

He shrugs, and then after a long moment he shakes his head no. She sighs heavily, “What’s wrong?”

Alex shakes his head again, and now he won’t look at her. She leans against the washer and says, “I can’t make it better if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

He shakes his head again, and she smiles softly, “Alexander.” She says gently, and she rests her hand on his knee; immediately he flinches away, almost violently, which startles her. She retracts her hand, watching him for a moment; his reaction makes her feel sick.

He’s curled in on himself now, hugging his knees to his chest. “Alexander.” She repeats, this time placing her hands on his shoes; he still flinches, not as hard, but he still looks upset.

“Alexander.” She says in a quiet voice, “What did he do to you?”

Alex shakes his head, and his mother reaches up and caresses his face, “Alexander, tell me what he did to you.”

He reaches up and holds her wrist, and when he closes his eyes tears fall silently down his cheeks.

**10.)**

Alex covers his face with a pillow, trembling. His parents words are seeping through the walls, and although his father’s aren’t loud and overpowering yet, his mother’s are already starting to waver. Alex doesn’t want to hear it, he doesn’t want to hear his parents arguing because he knows it’s only going to lead to his father yelling and then Alex is just going to feel sicker.

His father is arguing, arguing some point, but Alex’s ears are ringing and he can’t make out anything he’s actually saying. Something about why he should stay. Something about not having anywhere to go.

His mother is losing this argument; her words are getting softer and his are getting louder. Alex wraps the pillow tighter around his head and closes his eyes, pressing his face into it. He wants to cry, but no tears will come. 

They’re talking about him.

His mother’s voice has a renewed passion in it, “I know what you fucking did.”

_ Swear jar,  _ Alex thinks, and immediately flinches a little bit.  He sits up in bed; he wants to listen, now, even though it makes him sick to his stomach. 

“Rachel, that’s disgusting.” James says, his voice muffled through the wall, “It’s not true.”

“Why would he lie about that?!” His mother shouts.

Alex opens the door to his room, and immediately their argument snaps into focus. He goes from only hearing the words like they’re blurry and murmured to hearing how close his father is to snapping, how close his mother is to crying. He stops and hovers in the junction that connects to the living room. His father’s back is to him, something that makes Alex less nervous.

His mother’s eyes fixate on him over his father’s shoulder. James catches her hesitation and turns around, his eyes falling on his son, and Alex recoils. James throws a glare at Rachel, then glances back at his son, “Alexander, bud.”

He takes a step forward, and Alex takes a step back. His mother steps forward protectively, but James hesitates. “Alexander,” he says, his voice deceivingly gentle, “You don’t want me to leave, do you?”

Alex hesitates, and then he slowly nods his head yes. The soft smile on James’ face falters. “Alexander,” he says, and then he steps forward faster than Alex can step away and he wraps him in a hug and Alex feels like he’s going to throw up. His arms are limp and all he can smell is cigarette smoke before his mother is ripping him out of his father’s grip and screaming,  _ “Leave! Leave, James! I don’t care where you go, I don’t want you anywhere near my fucking son!” _

James looks startled for a moment, before his face darkens, “Where do you want me to go, Rachel?” he asks, “What do you want me to fucking do? I bet you’d like me to just walk out the fucking door and go and kill myself.”

Rachel’s jaw is trembling, but she manages, “If that’s what it takes to get rid of you, perish.”

James looks taken aback for a moment, and Alex would do anything to believe his father wouldn’t actually do that. His eyes are screwed shut, his hands have twisted into the fabric of his mother’s shirt so tightly he’s not sure he could let go if he tried to.

Finally, when it is silent and the door has been locked and deadbolted, Rachel holds Alexander as tightly as she can. She is crying and shaking, almost harder than Alex is, and she is apologizing and making promises that Alex isn’t listening to, but he finds he doesn’t really care, because for the first time in a long time, Alexander feels safe.

**Author's Note:**

> his mom is gonna die in two years lol


End file.
